The Tales of the Shepherds: A Collection
by Lilybud the Storyteller
Summary: They are the fearless warriors who fight evil. They are the vigilantes who protect the helpless. They are the ones who dare to test their fates. They are the Shepherds. There are many stories of these legendary heroes, but have you heard all of them? No? Then stop to read the untold tales of how the Shepherds lived their lives as heroes, but most importantly, as friends. Awakening.


**Author's Note: This is probably THE spookiest thing I've written yet (which isn't saying much, but whatever). I know it may not have been the brightest idea to start a collection off with a rather, eh, _disturbing_ chapter, but I just like it too much to postpone it. Be warned, though: once I get another chapter up, this one will probably be pushed to the second chapter.**

**Before we start, I just want to clear a few things up concerning this collection of Fire Emblem mini-stories. This collection will mainly consist of individual one-shots (stand-alone short stories), unless specified otherwise. However, if I'm writing several chapters that occur in a chronological order, like an actual story, then I'll title the set of chapters as Part: 1, Part: 2, etc., ****Also, I'm a fan of a wide variety of pairings, so I'll be playing around with that quite a bit. For example, in this chapter I paired Tharja and Libra together, but in another chapter I might pair Tharja up with somebody else. Though, just so it's not confusing, I'll list all pairings that take place in the beginning of the relevant chapter (unless I want it to be a surprise).**

**Lastly, if you find any errors-grammar or otherwise-or have any suggestions, then I would love to hear them! Just put what you want to say in a review, and I'll be sure to fix whatever is wrong.**

**Now that that's cleared up, onto the story!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Fire Emblem: Awakening (or any of the games, really).**

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**Chapter One:**

**Hearts and Minds**

Pairing: Tharja and Libra

Timeline: Future

Age of Noire: Approximately eight years old.

* * *

Noire hesitated at the first step, gulping as she looked down the stairs that seemed to lead to a black, fathomless pit. It was possible that the pit could've led straight to hell itself.

But she knew better than that.

Even from where the little girl stood, she could hear the eerie echoes and bangs, which were the only signs of life at the bottom of the staircase. The sounds were coming from her mother's workroom. How long has it been since her mother last left her studies? A week? Two? Noire couldn't remember.

Ever since her father died, her mother had been working tirelessly day and night to try and bring him back. For many days Noire was left alone in the house where her family used to live together. The home had been filled with such happiness and peace that even the dreaded war did not seem to pass through the walls. Nowadays the house just felt empty, only a faded footprint of its former glory. The rooms that once filled Noire with a sense of adventure and mystery now only haunted her with bittersweet memories—fragments of a past that she could no longer grasp.

"_Noire!" _

Her mother's voice, cracked from disuse, rose from the bottom of the staircase and snapped the girl out of her thoughts. "Get over here!"

Noire swallowed when she looked down the pit, unable to see the bottom. For a moment the world seemed to shake—_has Grima finally arrived?_—but then Noire realized it was only her knees trembling. Taking a deep breath, she grasped the talisman her mother had given her. A sensation resembling electrical sparks surged from the charm and into her body, successfully clearing her mind of fear.

It fueled her with just enough courage for her to take the first step into the sinister darkness.

And another.

And another.

Soon it wouldn't have mattered if Noire's eyes were open or not—she couldn't even see her hand in front of her. "It's okay," she whispered, letting her fingers skim over the wall's jagged surface. "You've done this before. It's okay, it's okay…" As she descended farther down the staircase, the mantras she repeated to herself became less reassuring and more disheartening. "Just need to step carefully…and avoid the hairy spiders...and suffocating…and falling to my death…I bet my funeral wouldn't be very big… Would Severa even cry?"

The air quickly turned chilly and damp, sending goose bumps rippling across her skin. No matter how quiet she tried to be, each step she took was amplified in the narrow space. It felt eerily similar to being in a crypt.

At last Noire could make out a hazy light emerging from the darkness, signaling the end of the staircase. The musty air was replaced by strange smells that hinted of exotic origins. Noire's feet echoed off the last step as she walked towards the open area that was spilling with light. Though she was relieved to have left the nightmarish passageway, she wasn't overly fond of entering the next area, either. Where most people would be happy to see a light at the end of a dark tunnel, believing their struggles were at an end, Noire knew that the light was only a disguise to even more sinister things.

Staying close to the wall and its shadows, Noire peered hesitantly into the workroom. Her mother was only a stone's throw away with her back facing the girl. The woman was hunched over a wooden table that was strewn with various leafy herbs, odd bottles of all sizes, and aged spell books and tomes. She was focused on an especially thick, ancient-looking book. The manuscript's pages were yellowed and filled with lines of faded letters from an equally ancient language. Her mother's eyes scanned the semi-transparent pages with an almost lustful greed.

"Momma," Noire whispered quietly, trying not to disturb her mother's focus. "Can I help with something?"

Tharja quickly whipped around with a surprised, wild look on her face. Then her eyes narrowed distastefully at her daughter, making Noire shrink closer to the wall. Suddenly the sorceress rushed at the girl. She grabbed her by the forearm, forcing a yelp from Noire as the woman's pointed nails dug into her skin. Tharja did not seem to notice the pain she was causing, or if she did, she didn't care.

"About time," the sorceress hissed, dragging her daughter next to the wooden table. She pushed the girl's arms forcibly against her sides and then let go. "Stay there."

Tharja strode to the cauldron, which was gurgling like boiling water. The liquids inside cast her face in an unnerving glow as she peered into the contents.

All the while, Noire's heart hammered in her chest like a wild animal. She tried to stay still like her mother had told her, but her quivering limbs betrayed her._ It's okay, _she thought. _Momma just needs my help. _

Wide-eyed, Noire watched wordlessly as her mother grabbed a ladle from a hook on the wall. She then dipped it into the cauldron. When she pulled it out, the spoon was filled with a thick, black liquid that emitted faint curls of steam. Careful not to spill a single drop, Tharja rushed back to her daughter. She grabbed the girl painfully by the chin, cutting small crescents into her pale skin.

"Open," the sorceress murmured in a dangerous tone.

The brew was so close that Noire could feel the wisps of steam brushing against her cheek, and could smell the foul odor choking her. Before Noire could make a sound, her mother shoved the ladle into her mouth.

"_Drink_."

The vile smell surrounded Noire as the liquid was poured down her throat, inescapable and overwhelming. It felt like hundreds of knives were stabbing her from the inside until she was doubled over in pain. Her eyes watered as she struggled to look up, searching for her mother, but hazy blots of red threatened to overtake her vision. She tried to cry for help but the words were stolen by violent, racking coughs.

Soon she couldn't tell if she was standing up or lying on the cold, hard ground. Noire only knew that the pain wouldn't stop _stop_ **_stop_**.

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*l*l*

* * *

Tharja silently stood by as she watched her daughter bend over in pain. She didn't even lift a finger to help nor offer a word of comfort. Instead, an eager, almost feral gleam shone in her eyes.

Suddenly Noire's writhing body turned rigid and still. Then the young girl straightened, as if a string was pulling her up like she was nothing more than a puppet. A slack, empty expression swept over her face, smoothing over any signs of previous agony into a blank mask. Noire's dark eyes blinked once, and when they reopened, the pupils and irises were swallowed up by a milky white.

The young girl had all but disappeared.

Tharja pursed her lips as she waited for the next phase to take place. She couldn't help but frown as she looked at her daughter. Almost against her will, she stretched her hand and ran her slim fingers through the girl's fair blonde hair, lingering slightly at the ends. Noire was so much like…_him_.

The sorceress abruptly drew back her hand. She took a step back, as if hoping to distance herself from the girl not only physically but emotionally, too. It had to work. It just _had_ too.

Tharja frantically searched the girl's white eyes for any sign of recognition but they only stared blankly ahead; open, but not really seeing. Worried thoughts chased each other around and around the sorceress's mind the longer she watched her daughter's still form. _What if it didn't work? What if I did something wrong? What if—_

"Mmhh…"

Tharja froze.

Another soft moan escaped from the girl's lips, though her expression still remained vacant. Then Noire's mouth opened.

"Tharja?"

The sorceress sucked in a breath. The voice that came from the girl was not Noire's quiet, timid voice, but a voice that was calm yet heavy, as if the person had just woken up. It was a voice that haunted Tharja when she was awake or when she was dreaming. It was a voice that was a familiar to her as her own. It was…

"_Libra_." Tharja's grip tightened on the book she was holding to try and stop her arms from shaking. "You're here."

It wasn't a dream.

It was real.

It was _real_.

"I almost gave up," she stammered. "This current connection is only temporary, I know, but a few more experiments and we can—_I_ can bring you back to the living. The form is slightly off, but some more batwings should—"

"_Tharja_," Libra's voice interrupted mid-sentence. "My love, you must stop this."

The sorceress's eyes widened in shock. "What are you talking about? Has death made you delusional?"

"I'm perfectly in my right mind," his voice said calmly. "But I am not of this world any longer. You shouldn't waste your life to bring back mine. Nobody can reverse death—you know that. It's unnatural."

Tharja felt as if she had been slapped. "_Unnatural_?" she howled. A dark aura began to pulse like a racing heartbeat around her form. "I'm trying to bring you back to life! All of this—" She thrust her arms to the shadowy room around her, though Noire's eyes did not react. "—is for _you! _Don't you dare tell me that wanting my husband alive—_by my side_—is unnatural!"

There was a tense silence before Noire slowly opened her mouth again. "Do you remember when you first cast a hex on me?"

The halo that encased the sorceress began to dim as anger gave way to confusion. "Of course," she said, frowning. "It's not everyday someone volunteers to be a guinea pig."

"Yes, and it wasn't long until you found out my secret. I still remember the exact words you said to me afterwards." Tharja could almost imagine Libra's soft smile while his voice echoed, "_When hearts and minds come together, they sometimes change each other._'"

"I…might've said something like that." A deep blush covered Tharja's cheeks as the last of the aura faded.

"Even after death," Libra said, "the change that happened between us will never disappear. It will always be there, connecting us."

Before her brain realized what her body was doing, Tharja raised her arm and threw her tome at the girl with all her might. Noire didn't even blink when the book hit the wall behind her with a deafening bang, and then fell to the floor, its pages splayed out in disarray.

_"YOU LIE!"_

The scream rattled the bottles and metal instruments that were lined along the room. Ghostly figures that resembled grotesque human outlines stretched high upon the walls, covering the entire room in shadows. Tharja's whole body shook while the menacing aura flared around her once again, larger and fiercer than ever. "Those words mean nothing if you are not here! You left me alone—_abandoned_!"

"As you have abandoned our daughter?" Libra said coolly.

"You're the one who abandoned her," Tharja spat. "Why did you do it? The arrow was meant for me and yet you stepped in front of it. _Why?_"

She could still picture it with such clarity: the assassin peeking from the bushes, an arrow drawn; Libra's face as he jumped in front of her, screaming her name; his eyes wide with shock and the quick, sharp intake of breath as the arrow embedded itself not in her breast but in Libra's. Even now she could feel the helplessness and unadulterated rage that itched at the edges of her sanity. It was a feeling that even revenge could not sate.

His voice became soft yet strong in a way that was so familiar to Tharja. "I sacrificed myself because I love you," he said with such certainty. "And I would do it again without hesitation."

"Fool," she murmured, still vibrating with anger and sorrow. "We both know that you would've made a better parent for Noire."

"No," Libra said sternly. "I don't pretend to know the reasons of gods—even in the afterlife those things are still enigmatic—but I do know that you are meant to be Noire's guide through her life. So, I beg of you, let me go. Continue living your lives together. If you do not, then Noire will not only be fatherless but motherless, as well. Do you truly want her to grow up with the same lack of love that we did?"

Tharja was speechless. With wide eyes, she stared at her daughter's face—so young, so innocent—as if she was seeing her for the first time. Whether she realized it or not, Noire had never given up on her mother. Even when the little girl was afraid, she would offer Tharja help with her experiments or make her meals when she refused to leave the workroom. Honestly, Noire was the only thing that had kept the sorceress from becoming insane over the years. And how did Tharja repay her? By using Noire as a guinea pig half of the time, and the other half by pretending she didn't exist.

But that was going to change.

The shadowy figures that stretched across the walls suddenly dispersed, like they were nothing more than a candlelight that could be blown out with a single breath. The sorceress's aura shrank back into her body. For the first time in so long, Tharja finally felt _whole_ again.

The girl's lips parted once more, and the voice that came out sounded almost wistful. "Does the little mouse still like to paint?" asked Libra. "Before I left, we were painting an angel together. She was having trouble with the wings…"

"I-I don't know," Tharja admitted, lowering her head.

"I see." There was disappointment in his voice, but it disappeared in a second. "Tell her that I'm sorry we never finished the painting."

Tharja knew what was coming. Holding back tears, she looked up. "Libra, I'll curse you in the afterlife if you leave me now!"

The voice continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Tell the little mouse that I'm sorry I was never able to stop the hexes you would always cast on us…" Libra's voice began to grow fainter like it was coming from farther away. "Tell her that I love her and her mother with all of my heart. Tell her that even in the afterlife I still miss her every second. And tell her—"

The voice was abruptly cut off.

"Don't go…" Tharja moaned.

But there was only silence.

* * *

*l*l*

* * *

Noire's eyes were still closed when she regained consciousness. The first thing she noticed was that the air was close to freezing; a sure sign that something supernatural had recently transpired. Her head felt heavy and…oddly _fuzzy_, like it was filled with cotton, but then a sharp pain cleared away the drowsiness. Swaying slightly, Noire cupped the side of her head and groaned.

"Nngh…w-w-what happened?"

A muffled noise made her force her eyelids apart. Though she didn't realize it, the cloudy film that had appeared during the trance had broken through to reveal her naturally dark eye color.

The area was cast in shadows like a dungeon. It took a moment for her vision to adjust to the darkness, and another moment to pick out an obscure hump in the middle of floor. Taking a step forward, Noire realized it was her mother.

The sorceress was lying on the floor with her legs bent to the side. Her hand was touching the ground to hold herself up, while her other hand was covering her face. Tharja's shoulders shuddered uncontrollably as she turned her head away from the girl.

"Momma?" Noire's breath came out in a dispersing wisp. She hurriedly knelt on the floor beside her mother, hesitating, before placing a hand lightly on her upper back—her skin felt as cold as ice. "Momma, did I do something wrong?"

For a long moment, the woman did not move or say anything. Eventually the spasms subsided, and Tharja slowly lowered her hand from her face. Black strands of hair fell back when she carefully raised her head, meeting her daughter's worried eyes.

Noire held back a gasp when she saw the moisture shining on her mother's pale cheeks. She had never seen her cry before.

"What happened?" said Noire in barely more than a whisper.

Tharja's voice was gravelly with emotion. "Your father said he misses his little mouse."

Then her mother did something that the girl had not seen in a very long time.

Tharja smiled.

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**Thanks for taking the time to read this! I hope you've liked it, and please review!**

**(Oh, and I promise that these spooky chapters won't happen too frequently.)**


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